


They

by anariel_m



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: All Eras, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Frank doesn't, Gerard gets married at some point in this one, Getting Back Together, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:01:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27513481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anariel_m/pseuds/anariel_m
Summary: ‘Hey, you coming?’ Gerard looks slightly worried but mainly curious, standing not so far and being really fucking gorgeous. Even after a night in the van – that’s just not fair, Frank thinks. He beams at Gerard.‘Yeah.’And then he comes.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	They

**Author's Note:**

> It's basically their journey from the start to the point of Stomachaches' release in 2014, with very loose choronology (and facts). Of course, all the events in this fic are a product of my fantasy and only that.
> 
> I don't have a beta, so I'm sorry if it's too hard to read or something.
> 
> Thank you for reading and any feedback is very appreciated!

***  
They’ve been in Gerard’s basement for hours now – talking, eating snacks and laughing. They left the party somewhat after eleven, ‘cause suddenly spending time with each other had become more important than everything else that night.  


Because that night was the night they had met. 

Frank is sitting on the floor, leaning on the bed, listening, really listening to Gerard’s rant about this new idea for a comic book and thinking that it must be morning already.

‘It must be morning,’ like that, Gerard voices thoughts of the other boy, like he’s done countless times this… evening? night? 

Frank turns his head and looks at the outline of Gerard’s face lying very close to his and staring at the ceiling. It’s dark, not pitch-black though – some light is breaking through the smallest basement/bedroom window Frank’s ever seen, with dark curtains on it. So after getting adjusted to the change of focus, he sees Gerard’s ridiculously perfect nose, catches a glimpse of his eyes and watches boy’s lips moving. 

‘Yeah. I still don’t wanna go. Unless, of course, you want me to.’  


‘No!’ Gerard answers a bit too abruptly, slightly raising on the elbows, turning his gaze to Frank, who just can’t help but smile at this. And he feels, rather than sees, how Gerard’s smiling back. 

This whole night is pure, distilled magic. People just can’t have that much in common, Frank thinks, the connection can’t be almost palpable from the first seconds, no one can feel like being crushed by a train and fucking floating at the same time. He’s terrified. And so far gone by the end of the night that he just doesn’t care. 

‘Gerard?’  


‘Yeah?’ Gerard looks at him and Frank gazes into his eyes, which are more visible now, and knows that these dark-hazel eyes will haunt him forever even if they never meet each other again. Gerard emanates trust and tiny sparks of madness, and that’s how Frank knows that this night has just the same shade of lunacy and magic to his new friend as it has to him. 

‘I’m gonna do something. ‘Cause I really want to. And I kinda think you want it too.’ Frank can swear that they both forget to breathe. Breathing or not, but he notices the smallest nod Gerard gives him. They get closer, removing the rest of the world from each other’s minds and spaces, and then they kiss. 

Surprisingly, it doesn’t feel like fireworks. Might be because their entire night was a never-ending firework itself. What it feels like is the most wholesome, the most truthful thing they’ve done in their entire lives. 

They both smile into the kiss as the sunlight crushes the darkness of the basement entirely. 

***  
They are in a bar and Frank is over the moon when Gerard offers him to join the band. 

It happens on a Saturday night – Gerard called him and said that they needed to talk. But he sounded excited rather than anything else, so Frank tried really hard not to worry himself to death. So when Gerard looks at him, slightly touches his shoulder, shyly smiles (as if he really thought that Frank would say no) and says the words, Frank just can’t believe this kind of happiness exists. Of course, he knew that the guys had been considering another guitarist, but one thing is to know about an idea and another one is to imagine that it somehow relates to him.  


Frank hugs Gerard, crushes him and never wants to let go.

‘Wow, I take it as a ‘yes’ than?’  


Frank lets go and looks incredulously at Gerard, who’s radiant and glowing and is the most talented, the most beautiful human being he’s ever seen, who’s smiling at him right now and – 

‘Are you fucking kidding me? Of course it’s a ‘yes’, come on!’

They’re looking at each other with mirroring blissful smiles when the beer appears in front of them on the counter. Frank gets a drink and can’t take his eyes off Gerard. He’s thinking about their (fuck, ‘their’!) band, about how he’s blessed to become part of their story, which is going to be fantastic, he’s so sure about that. But – 

‘But what about us?’ the thought actually makes his blood grow cold – Frank’s tried really hard not to think too much about them as an item, not to question or label anything between them, because he was happy to accept anything Gerard was able to give to him. Which, currently, were kisses, endless talks, constant sleepovers (which didn’t always include sex, but when they did – it was ten times better, if you ask Frank), playing music and just being happy to be around each other. 

Gerard looks intently into Frank’s eyes, but then looks down and comes back different in a second – nonchalant and light-hearted.

‘Well, we can just be casual, you know.’ Frank doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what exactly ‘casual’ means to Gerard, doesn’t know if it can actually work for them and sure as fuck doesn’t know why his heart sinks down a little bit. But hey, they can figure this all out along the way, right? For now, they have the band and each other, kind of, so it’s gotta be enough, Frank hopes. He’s grinning at Gerard, happy to share this moment with him.

‘Yeah. Okay. Casual.’ And Frank sees how Gerard’s beaming at him, and how the dim lights of the bar are making his pale skin two times brighter – luminescent, – and how every second is so incredibly special. And how fucking lucky they actually are.

***  
They make a stop in the middle of fuck-knows-where at a gas station. Frank knows that because he’s barely had any sleep this night – the van isn’t exactly an orthopedic king-size. And he has to replace Ray soon anyway. 

It’s late and they’re considering whether to wake the guys up or not, eventually deciding against it. But when Frank’s trying to get out of the van, Gerard stirs and tries to open his eyes. Frank hesitates and looks at him with a fond smile.

‘Gas station?’  


‘Yeah. ‘S okay, I can get you something – you don’t have to go.’  


‘No, I want to. Could use some food’, Frank smirks at that –  


‘What? I get hungry! Sometimes.’

They both are stumbling out of the car as quietly as possible, not willing to wake Mikey and Matt, and walking towards a small store. Gerard walks in first with Frank behind him, squinting in the bright artificial lights. 

Franks comes towards the fridge, looking for some soda – probably, not the best idea for his stomach, but he’s spent the last 24 hours craving for it, so why the fuck not. Frank takes a diet coke, trying to come up with something else to get. Gerard comes into his focus, choosing crisps or something equally inedible. He has his hair dyed recently, they’re pitch black, and Frank likes them best this way. Frank thinks how Gerard manages to look completely surreal in every setting he gets into – like an alien, but zoned out. A sexy zoned out alien. He doesn’t realize that he’s staring, apparently – 

‘What?’ Gerard doesn’t even look up, he still is paying attention mostly to the snacks, but he smiles a little bit, like he doesn’t need to look up, like he just knows.

‘You look like a sexy zoned out alien.’

Gerard cracks, not asking anything, though, ‘cause sometimes they just tell things like these to each other – stupid, meaningless things. 

‘Okay, dumbass, let’s take the cigarettes and go already.’ and Frank catches up, they both smiling now, walking to the counter.

When they come out of the shop, the moon is shining incredibly bright, and their van is parked exactly in the light of it. Frank slows down and just gazes into the sky. He relishes the moment, thinking of how huge the world, in general, is, and how his personal world is actually currently reduced to cramped stuffy venues, blasting guitar chords, everlasting nights in the van like this one and to the man calling for him right now – 

‘Hey, you coming?’ Gerard looks slightly worried but mainly curious, standing not so far and being really fucking gorgeous. Even after a night in the van – that’s just not fair, Frank thinks. He beams at Gerard.

‘Yeah.’ 

And then he comes.

***

He comes everywhere Gerard calls him to, he takes up on every stupid offer and every not-so-healthy way of having fun Gerard comes up with. Partly, because he’s happy to. Partly, because he’s worried. Frank doesn’t really want to get worried, he doesn’t want to notice how their innocent attempts of reducing stress are leaving them, all of them, numb and kind of dead through the weekends. What he wants is to believe that they all can control it. That it’s nothing. Who doesn’t have a drink, or two, or five, after a crazy gig? The band’s getting bigger, which means bigger crowds, bigger venues and much bigger stress, too. They do what they can to cope – that’s what Frank tells himself every day now and also during this particular evening. 

The guys went to the club after the gig, Frank went too, of course. Of course. He wasn’t in the mood but still went along. Now he’s had a couple of beers – he didn’t feel like he could handle anything heavier than that tonight, unlike the rest of the band – but that does nothing whatsoever to relieve the post-concert stress multiplied by ‘Gerard’ stress and his usual stress. Frank doesn’t know where everyone is – he thinks he’s seen Mikey chatting with some guy, like, ten minutes ago. But Mikey isn’t the one he’s subconsciously expecting to turn up in the faceless crowd, among the dim lights of foreign shadows.  


Something doesn’t feel right, but Frank can’t put his finger on it – he tries to discard this feeling, to convince himself that it’s nothing more than his usual anxiety. He decides to go outside in an attempt to get some fresh air. Getting out of the club takes time and some effort – there’s a decent crowd, kind of surprising for Wednesday (or is it Thursday? It’s progressively harder to keep track with each day and nobody sees any point in that anyway) – but eventually Frank makes it. 

He comes out of the club, walks for a bit and stops near the corner of the building, leaning on the wall, hiding his hands in the pockets of the hoodie. It must be about 2 or 3 a.m., he thinks, because it’s early May and the night is really dark, it’s even possible to see the stars here and there. Frank takes a few deep breaths and looks at the street in front of him. There’s a café, which looks like it’s working, a couple of shops – clearly closed, but some of them have illuminated store fronts. There’s a quirky vintage shop and a comic book store. Frank stares at it and thinks that Gerard would like this one. 

Gerard.

While being washed over by a very sudden realization, Frank understands that it’s not just a shop that has reminded him of his friend – he hears Gerard’s voice. Sexy moaning voice, to be precise. The one Frank got used to and the one he could’ve recognized even in some sort of a weird, fucked-up porn choir. He can hear someone else too. A guy, most likely. Time is moving in slow motion, while Frank is deciding whether to turn and look around the corner or not. There’s still no chance he’s mistaken, but seeing the whole picture by himself will make this more real – he won’t be able to run away from this. 

Frank wants to throw up, to run away and to erase the last few minutes out of his memory and the entire existence. He wants to erase himself. There’s a fleeting thought in the back of Frank’s mind, a thought of being surprised with how hard it all actually hits him. He really didn’t think that it was that bad. 

Eventually, Frank peaks out of the corner because there’s still a part of him that wants to be mistaken. No such luck, of course – there’s Gerard in the shadows, next to a wall of a near-by building, moaning and writhing, and then there’s a guy on his knees in front of Gerard. 

Frank goes away and doesn’t look back. 

Well, at least now it’s obvious what exactly ‘casual’ means to Gerard.

*** 

They’re on the plane from Tokyo and Frank has lost count to the exact amount of people Gerard’s been with, or the amount of pills Gerard’s taken, or even the amount of times Gerard’s said that he wants to get sober. Frank can’t focus on anything, no matter how hard he tries. He’s shaking inside, though he’s not the one going through withdrawal. Frank knows that Gerard needs him now, it’s tangible, they still share this one-of-a-life-time connection after all, but he just can’t – the weight of the last weeks catches up to him and pulls the air out of his chest. He’s trying to count something, anything, to get grounded to whatever there is –

‘I’m sorry.’

Frank opens his eyes but that’s the only thing he has strength for right now – turning his head and facing Gerard is unmanageable.  


‘You’ve already told that, like, hundreds of times, Gee. It’s okay, we’ll make it though this. It’s… fine.’

These phrases are as worn out as Gerard’s excuses at this point, and Frank doesn’t know why he keeps saying them over and over again.

‘I’m not talking about my… addiction,’ – oh, it’s new, he hasn’t actually used this particular word yet. Or, well, any others that could point at the problem directly. Baby steps, Franks thinks, missing the point of Gerard’s words entirely. 

‘I mean. Yes, being on pills, alcohol or something else played its part, but I… I hurt your feelings. More than once. And I wish I could say that I was completely unaware of that, but it’s not true. Frankie, I’m really fucking sorry.’ Gerard turns his head and Frank can feel his breathing – uneven and a bit shaky – and he has to look at him, and he looks. Really looks, for the first time in ages. Gerard’s eyes are exhausted, filled with worry and fear, but Frank can’t say that he doesn’t recognize his friend, although that would’ve made everything so much easier. Frank sighs.

‘I forgive you. It’s okay, it’s nothing. We’re going to be okay. Promise,’ and Frank takes his hand and squeezes it. He kisses Gerard’s forehead and sees Gerard smiling – kind of unsure, but smiling nonetheless. 

And Frank can’t help but to smile back at him.

***

When they have sex for the first time since Gerard’s got sober, it’s something over two months after Japan. They’re in a hotel, nothing fancy, but nothing horrible either, and Frank wouldn’t be able to remember any of the room’s details even if he tried. But some things, and he is absolutely certain about this, will stay with him forever.

The concert – it was impossible to control yourself, and they were all just dissolving into the music and crowd’s energy for two hours straight. The looks Gerard was giving him the entire time. The way his hand slipped into Frank’s when they were leaving the stage. The moment when they entered the room – the moon was shining so fucking bright and Gerard’s eyes were reflecting it. The first kiss. The second and the third and all the other kisses of this night. The way Gerard’s touching him and whispering something to him. The ringing in Frank’s ears when Gerard took him into his mouth. The ‘I’m with you’, ‘I’ve got you’, ‘I love you’, which were being traded both ways. The sounds, the distilled pleasure, the feeling of sharing something much bigger than a bed or a hotel night. The way Gerard’s body felt next to his afterwards, the heat and the inability to formulate any coherent words.

How Frank can’t fall asleep, floating in blissful darkness, listening to Gerard’s snoring. How he thinks that this is the happiest he’s ever been and ever will be. 

It is.

***  
They don’t talk much at Paramore. It gets worse with each day. Frank is scared almost all the time. He’s afraid that Gerard will relapse, that Mikey will give up, the he, himself, will run away, simply because it’s too much too handle. Except that he never runs away. Not from Gerard. 

Frank sees everything that’s going on, he realizes everything, but kinda from aside – it’s all happening with someone else, it’s not real, when they get out of here – it all ends, he’s fucking sure of it, he starts and finishes every day with this thought. They just have to hold on for a little longer.

‘Why do you so desperately need this album to be so… pretentious? One of a kind? Why do you have to dive into the deepest darkness you can find all the time?’ Frank asks when they’re sitting on a porch together in twilight. He’s not being spiteful – they argue so much that Frank doesn’t have strength for anything by the end of the day. He just wants to know. He wants to know why he’s doomed to watch the love of his life submerging into the abyss of hopelessness, by his own will, with the chances of getting back gradually turning into dust. 

‘Frankie…’ Gerard, of course, also sounds tired. Frank just thinks of it as a fact, emotionless. ‘It feels like something I’ve been born to do. We all have. I know you can feel it too – it’s fucking magnificent, we create something powerful, finally something truly worthy!’ Frank wonders how the hell darkness can actually make a person light up. 

‘Yes, I can. I can also feel how you’re slipping away.’ Frank is almost whispering. The sky is almost dark, but here it constantly feels like that, so Frank can’t understand time anymore. He can’t understand a single thing.

Gerard doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t go away either. Frank is scared that someday he will. They’re sitting in silence for a bit, and then Gerard puts his head on Frank’s shoulder, sighing and closing his eyes.

Franks breathes him in, welcomes him as he always does, and closes his eyes, too.

***

Frank can’t seriously be surprised. Just as he couldn’t be with the wedding. Couldn’t be when Gerard showed just how little that wedding was supposed to mean (twice a night, and Frank still hates himself for giving in). Or during the months he’s spent with not hearing a single word from his bandmate, best friend, lover, who cares. He can’t be surprised, lying on the floor in the living room with a phone in his hand, but he still is.

‘So, what do you think?’ Gerard asks, in this cheerful and seemingly careless kind of way, as if the last couple of years didn’t happen, as if it wasn’t living hell for both of them.

‘You… you want the band to get back together,’ Frank just repeats it over and over again, trying to place it somewhere in his head, someplace where this thought doesn't lead to hysterical laughter.

Gerard sighs. ‘Yes, Frankie, once again – yes. Although we’ve never broken up, not officially. Look, I have this concept, you know…’

Frank just lets him talk for another hour, describing this grand concept of his – something about post-apocalypses, freedom, corporations and deserts. Frank tries to come to some sort of conclusion on whether he’s really ready to do this again, to stand by Gerard’s side again, on stage and off it, to put up with all sorts of bullshit, to have his own heart set ablaze and to pick up its pieces. He really thinks he can’t do this. Until Gerard goes silent all of a sudden and then says the one thing Frank hasn’t heard for ages:

‘I miss you.’

And just like that Frank knows that he’s lost.

***

They celebrate Frank’s birthday on tour this time and they are happy. Frank smiles so much it actually hurts and Gerard feels so real to him, so much like the way he used to when they had just met. Like he’s there only for Frank, like their relationship includes only two of them, like they have a euphoric bubble and this bubble is completely indestructible.

Tomorrow they are supposed to be in Paris, but today they’re still in Amsterdam, spending the last night in their hotel. Gerard found a way to get to the roof, and now they’re lying on a pile of blankets and watching the city slowing down; drinking champagne and laughing and kissing, and kissing some more. It should be cold but they can’t make themselves believe it.

‘Thank you,’ Gerard says while moving away after the kiss, hovering over Frank. Frank drinks him in – red hair, ageless face in absolute harmony with surrounding atmosphere – and doesn’t really register what Gerard’s saying.

‘What? What for?’  


‘For believing in me. And trusting me.’

Frank smirks and strokes Gerard’s hair.

‘How could I resist your epic album concept?’  


‘Not for this. Okay, not just for this.’ Gerard rolls over, seeming a little anxious and skittish. Frank takes Gerard’s hand but doesn’t turn his head to look at him. He waits.

‘Whatever idea I’ve been coming up with through these years… however crazy or impossible, you’ve been by my side. And it’s not all about the ideas, either. You’d stayed when it was hard even for me to stay by my own side. You were scared, furious, disillusioned, straight up depressed, but you never left, not for real.’ 

Frank realizes that he’s stopped breathing. And that Gerard is clutching to his hand really hard.

He turns to Gerard in less than a second and kisses him with all the intensity, passion and love he’s ever had for this man. He had never left because it was never an option.

When they break off for some air, Gerard’s looking at him, with shining eyes and a little smile.

‘Happy Birthday, Frankie.’

Frank presses his face into Gerard’s shoulder and breathes in for what feels like the first and the last time in his entire life.

***

‘They’ don’t exist anymore. Frank is still trying to wrap his head around it, when he’s not too busy with attempts to hold his collapsing world together.

It’s autumn, Frank’s almost sure of it, because the air is changing, not because he’s looked at calendars – calendars and any possible concepts of time died in March. A part of him died then, too.

For the first few months he couldn’t do anything at all. What can you possible do after your life as you knew it practically ends, and not even because of you? Frank’s friends were calling him, coming to visit, taking turns in walking his dogs when he couldn’t. Then someone started leaving one of his guitars in the places where he’d been spending most of his time – Frank wasn’t impressed in the slightest. First few times, at least. Until one day, when he heard one of their songs on the radio – instead of turning it off, he actually listened to the end. And then Frank took the guitar and didn’t let it go for weeks. 

Now he has ten to twenty really solid songs and ready to show them, well, not to the world, but at least to his friends. He’s building a routine, finds something to hold onto in each day, tries to reach out when it gets insufferable, does everything his therapist tells him to. He even starts talking to Mikey and Ray again – after all, they’re in the same boat. Franks begins to think, for the first time this year, that he’s gonna make it, that it is, at least, somewhat possible.

That is until the nights come. Paralyzing, daunting, overwhelming nights. Frank cries himself to passing out and doesn’t dream often, but when he does – it’s hardly better. He’s watching pictures from before, the happiest and the darkest ones, all of them bringing the same horrific levels of despair. But the absolute worst ones are the pictures from their future – the one they won’t have. It’s impossible to get over them, to recover from them, to give up the idyllic images of them playing music, living in a cabin in the forest, travelling the world, having kids, growing old – all of this together. Accompanied by thundering splashes of happiness. After these dreams Frank’s just lying in his bed, looking at the ceiling and waiting for the morning sunlight to save him from himself. 

And then the sunlight comes, the pictures fade, and it’s possible to live again. 

***

In less than a year Frank has a full album to release and gigs to perform. He’s on the brink of his first one, and to say that he’s nervous means to say absolutely nothing. 

Frank is backstage of the venue and hears the crowd, which, yeah, can’t be huge, but people actually have come to see him, to listen to the songs that he’s written, to see who he actually is outside of someone else’s bands. It blows his mind – it’s really exciting and really, really fucking terrifying. But while there’s still some excitement – he’s gonna be fine, Frank thinks. Frank hugs the guys – people, who, he really hopes, are going to be there with him for more than one gig – and then they come onto the stage. 

Frank sees all the people and really freaks out for a second, but almost everyone is smiling, and he can’t help to smile back at them, and to actually feel like himself for the first time since the breakup. He’s gonna be alright. 

And, like that, Frank starts playing.

He’s finally setting free all the pain of the last year, putting all of his fractured burning soul into playing and screaming. Letting himself feel and just be alive. 

Something changes after the third song and Frank can’t understand what it is at first. It’s not about music or people, he is also fine, but the atmosphere slightly shifts, gets a bit more tense, more charged. He’s going through the fourth song, trying to figure out this feeling, and in one moment he opens his eyes on instinct, not actually realizing it. Frank’s eyes are searching the crowd, but he’s getting aware of it only when he finds what he’s been looking for. 

Frank’s heart skips a beat when he sees Gerard. He’s wearing a hoodie, sunglasses, trying to be as invisible as he can, but it would take so much more than that for Frank not to notice him. For ten seconds Frank doesn’t hear music, his voice most probably twitches a few times, but when he reconnects with reality and looks around a bit, his bandmates are playing as they have been, and everything seems to be fine. Perfect. Fucking fantastic.

Gerard is there till the end. After Frank finishes the gig (only thanks to his will power) and says goodbye to the crowd, he rushes backstage, doesn’t show that anything is wrong, tries to be himself with the guys who seem to believe him, and packs up as fast as he can. He understands that Gerard’s most probably already gone and doesn’t know whether to be disappointed or happy. Coming to a conclusion that Gerard is certainly gone, Frank calms down a little bit, trying to focus on the fact that he and his new band have actually played their first gig, which people seemed to like. He still can’t help being a bit on wires when he says goodbye to everyone and makes it through the exit.

August sun is shining, the air is nice and pleasant – Frank takes a deep breath, which, however, turns out to contain smoke. But he hasn’t lit up a cigarette yet.

‘I was afraid you’d left.’

Gerard is standing next to him, leaning on the wall, still in sunglasses, smoking and not looking at Frank.

Frank is trying to hold on and not look at him but fails. He hasn’t seen Gerard for a year and a half. 

‘Why are you here?’ Frank’s voice is hoarse. His thoughts are running around, possible reactions are coming up, such as punching his friend in the face, yelling at him or kissing him senseless until it hurts. 

Gerard takes a lighter out of his pocket and holds it out to Frank, offering to give a smoke. Frank scoffs but still gets his own cigarettes and watches how Gerard is lighting up one for him. They’re smoking and Frank swears to himself that he’s gonna leave if Gerard says nothing by the time they stop. 

‘Wanted to see you. Talk to you.’ Gerard takes off his sunglasses, puts out a cigarette, and Frank allows himself to actually look at his friend for real.

Gerard’s eyes are haunted, with massive bags under. He’s pale, paler than usual, thinner than usual. His black hair has spots dyed in blond but it still looks like a mess. Gerard definitely doesn’t seem like he succeeds in creating a healthier, happier life for himself, the one he craved for (according to himself) and the one he broke up the band for. The one he could never ever reach outside of the band or outside in general (according to Frank). Frank instantly feels a sting of uncalled sympathy, because that’s the first time he learns that their breakup hasn’t been easy for Gerard too. Frank doubted that, a lot. He fights the initial urge to hug Gerard and instead asks:

‘What about?’  


‘About… everything. Us. How… how I fucked it all up, Frank, please.’

Frank hears desperation in Gerard’s voice. He contemplates. Surely he understands where this can go – him forgiving Gerard and… what? Starting this whole thing all over again? It took him fucking ages to recover. Frank’s exhausted, and now he sees that Gerard is too, and the thing is that he’s actually forgiven him. He’s hurting, sure, but now it’s mostly because he’s incredibly missing Gerard. There’s not even an ounce of anger left, Jesus. Frank is a bit startled by this thought – it’s the truth, but he can’t understand when the hell that has happened. Probably, somewhere between his tenth and fifteenth song about Gerard getting written. 

‘I left. My stuff is at the hotel, I’m not going anywhere anymore. Not looking for anything. Because I’ve found it. I found it ages ago, but it took me more than a decade to fully realize it, Frank. I’m gonna wait for as long as it takes. If you can’t forgive me, I’ll just be around, waiting for the moment when you finally can. Even if takes you another decade.’ Gerard chuckles at his own last words with a shuddering breath and looks down with a small sad smile.

Frank takes a deep shaky breath. Thinking that he had probably decided everything even before this conversation started. Maybe when he saw Gerard for the first time in his life ages ago at a party. Even if it ends with a major catastrophe once again, even if Gerard changes his mind tomorrow, even if this is gonna be the last day they spend together for whatever reason – Frank is willing to risk it. Their good moments, the best moments, were still worth it, so this time – and Frank is sure of it – will be worth it too. 

‘Gee,’ he merely whispers. Frank crushes the cigarette too, stands in front of Gerard and carefully takes his face into his hands. Gerard’s expression is kind of disbelieving. And very tired. Frank silently wonders if this has all been inevitable – every splash of light and every patch of darkness on their way, if they could have done something differently, better. He looks at Gerard, smiles and thinks that no, they probably couldn’t have. But it’s okay. And that’s exactly what he tells his best friend.

‘It’s okay. It’s all okay.’ Frank tries for the most reassuring smile he can do and succeeds, if Gerard’s hopeful face is anything to go by. Frank can literally see how Gerard’s eyes light up; time is going freakishly slow, so he manages to have a really good look at all the smallest details on Gee’s face before he leans forward and kisses him. 

Gerard’s lips are bit chapped, but that doesn’t matter, nothing matters, apart from, maybe, small sighs Gee is making, or how he is shyly touching Frank’s hips, or how he is letting himself go second by second, realizing that Frank means it, that Frank still loves him, wants him, is and always has been there for him. Frank hopes that this is clear from the kiss, anyway. 

They part for air but their foreheads are still touching.

‘Hey,’ Frank is beaming at Gerard. He feels complete. Like this minute, this moment, has always been the one meant for them to end up in – a fixed point in time in space, however cheesy it may sound (he really doesn’t care).  


‘Hi,’ Gerard says with a slight tremble in his somewhat delirious, but very happy voice - ‘Do you… do you maybe want a cup of coffee?’

Frank takes a step back and laughs at that, loud and carefree. 

‘Seriously, Gee? We’re making up and that’s the first thing you have in mind? Ah, whatever, why the hell not. Lead the way, since it’s your treat.’ 

‘Who says it is?’ they start walking away from the venue, unable to stop giggling.

‘You! You asked me out, dumbass, so that means you buy me coffee!’ 

‘Yeah, but I’m the guest here. You owe me a welcome gesture or whatever.’

‘Oh yeah? I think a whole album written about you was enough of a welcome.’ 

‘Yeah... Yeah, you’re right, I owe you a lifelong coffee stock for that. Happy?’ Frank suddenly takes Gerard by the shoulders and pushes him against the wall in the middle of the street, lowering his hands to snake them around Gerard’s waist. 

‘Actually, I’m so happy, you can’t even fucking imagine, Gee.’ Gerard looks at him, loving and earnest, and says, ‘I think I might have a clue.’

And then Frank kisses him once again.

…he feels how his entire world turns upside down, and he’s okay, so much more than okay with this. Frank whispers ‘I love you’ into the kiss and feels how Gerard hugs him tighter, whispers the same words back, and Frank understands that 

they  
will never let each other go.


End file.
